


Down Time

by Candiedmothman



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Queue me just writing about Jean again, my friend writes a DISTRESSINGLY good reaper and I love them uwu, tbh I love this ship so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candiedmothman/pseuds/Candiedmothman
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	Down Time

Tasting your own medicine always turns out more bitter than you initially realize. This is why Jean sulks over the last few manila folders of debriefs that she'd been putting off to the previous two weeks, much to the chagrin of both Jack and Gabe. Of course, she'd meant to get to them, just as she'd meant to get to the growing stack of NATO briefings that she needed to be read into. Jean groans, one hand propping up the woman's chin as a pen scratches along the many signature lines and evidence record boxes. That suffocating whiff of too much printer ink and official bureaucratic nonsense lingered around every one of those folders, putting Jean in worse spirits. 

For all the times that she'd slipped into Gabriel's office when the woman is aware of the mountain of paperwork he sits on only to leave him flushed and covered in her lipstick, the woman wouldn't have thought to have the same treatment bestowed upon herself. That ghostly tingle of his calloused fingers pressed around Jean's throat as his mouth fervently claimed her own. 

There's always a type of fierce restrained hunger when they kissed, knowing they didn't have enough time to savor one another – like feeling a lashing storm from the other side of a door. From the way, his hands roamed Jean's form, trying to feel the heated skin beneath scratchy issued PJs, to the way her nails left stinging lines along his scalp. Parting breathless and lips still wet with the other's taste, he had growled that one word, which still echoed in Jean's mind.

"Later."

Easing her fingers along the place where his had graced an hour or so before the woman sighs, scribbling her signature in another box. Two more and freedom would be hers. Gaze sliding from the paperwork for just a moment, Jean taps awake her datapad sending a quick text message to Gabriel ( wherever he might be roaming ), then closed it.

Reclining back on the standard-issue bed's rumpled sheets with the finished papers around her, Jean has the decency to collect them all and stick them on the desk. While standing next to the small work littered metal desk, the woman clicks the lamp off, casting the room in a dim glow provided by the chemical yellow lights that line the perimeter of HQ's compound. Padding into the small bathroom attached to the larger bedroom area, Jean rolls through the steps of her nightly routine, the prospect of finishing what they had started already beginning to fade disappointingly. There's a mutual understanding that free time is hard to come by in professions such as theirs, so when it went weeks or even months with no contact with each other, it didn't spark surprise. 

What did spark surprise is when the soldier moves back into her bedroom and sees Gabe sitting on her bed, features cast in relief by the lights outside. Deep brown eyes glittering as they deliberately drank in her form, making Jean's stomach twist in a way she hadn't felt in months. Seven missions and more time than they'd realized went between now and the last time they'd even gave a passing nod in the hallway. Releasing a breath that she hadn't realized was being held, there's a split second of two predators eyeing one another — palpable anticipation of the first move. 

Crossing the room in three quick steps, Jean's hands find Gabriel's jaw instantly bringing his lips to hers. A low starved groan vibrates into the embrace as her knees hug his sides, sinking into the gunman's lap as if she'd always belonged there. Slowly grinding her hips down as every thought is kissed away, Jean tries to breathe properly through her nose, not wanting to break. If there's one thing that always held true for people in their profession, you can always tell what they do simply by the smell of gunpowder that seems to be ingrained into their skin. Under the soapy clean military facade are the guns and blood and danger. 

Words are sparse as hands pull at clothing and that bone-deep fire of arousal begins to flare from its embers. Gabriel's teeth make imprints on the tender skin of Jean's throat, pulling a breathless sound that goes straight through him. Shirts are tossed into some unimportant corner of the small room, pants joining them soon after. It's then that the animal rush of needing to feel bare skin seems to lull for a moment. Laying there beneath Gabe's broad frame, Jean fixes him with a dreamy ponderous look. Fingertips gingerly tracing the curve of his throat that boldly displays her marks, the woman's touch is a stark comparison to how rough they'd been a heartbeat previous. 

There aren't quite words for what she wants to express, yet Gabe understands, all the same, turning his head so he can press his lips to the inside of her palm. Then lacing more chaste kisses along Jean's wrist and arm, he expertly exhibits the strength in his body, smoothly making his way down the small bed to kneel on the floor before Jean. That doe-eyed look that she gives him has his cock throbbing where it's trapped within his boxers. Gripping an ankle in one calloused hand, Gabe pulls Jean to the bed's edge, grinning as she squeaks from the rough handling. 

Taking the time to massage the soldier's legs, he leisurely pushes them apart, taking note of the way Jean's fingers knead the sheets with a muffled whine. Mouthing along the inside of her thigh, Gabe none too gently grazes the pad of his thumb along with Jean's panties, feeling how damp she is already. 

"Been missing me, huh?" his voice is raspy as those brown eyes fix the woman with a wickedly greedy look that has her squirming beneath the deliberate touch. Reaching the underwear's lace hem, Gabe works a hickey into Jean's skin just above the cream-colored frill, kissing it afterward as if it would soothe the angry bruise. Leaning back to tug Jean's underwear off and flick them over a shoulder, Gabe resumes where he had left off, kissing lower and relishing in every little breathless sound the woman beneath him makes in response. That electric tingle that came with sharp nails across his scalp had the gunman growling deep in the back of his throat as he came to his prize. 

"Let's see if you still taste as good as I remember." Dragging the flat of his tongue along that slick heat between Jean's legs had her eyes rolling back a choked sound catching in her throat. Fingers immediately tightened painfully in Gabe's hair, making his hands grip tighter in her thighs' muscle, leaving bruises, no doubt.


End file.
